Broke But Not Broken
by misskaterinab
Summary: Kurt and Blaine fall on some hard times and don't think they have anywhere to turn but each other. A story of how they are broke, but not broken. (Rated M for a bit of bom chicka wow wow in the middle ;) )


A/N: I started writing this story when I was feeling particularly broke. Not as in broken, but broke, as in raiding my son's piggybank for change just to make it to the next payday. And it sort of morphed into what it is. I know what it's like to be broke, but not evicted or homeless or any of that, so that's all crap I made up. Please treat it as the complete fiction it is.

**xXxXxXx**

Kurt walked in the door to his apartment building and paused in the entry where all the mailboxes were. He scowled at the box labeled #203, futilely hoping that he could just wish away all the bad news that surely lay inside away, but he decided just to suck it up and see what all was in there. Who knew, maybe they won some sort of lottery or something.

He opened up the box and noted that it was nearly full. He decided that Blaine must've been exercising some form of denial as well in the form of not going anywhere near the mailbox. Kurt flipped through the mess in the box. "Bill, bill, junk, overdue notice, junk, third overdue notice, baby shower, bill, final notice… shit," he mumbled quietly. He left all the junk mail in the trash can to the left of the bank of mailboxes and tucked the rest of the mail inside his messenger bag. His beloved Marc Jacobs messenger bag from high school was getting worn and was more than a few years out of date, but there hadn't been money to replace it for quite some time.

Or for anything else, for that matter. Living in New York City hadn't been anything Kurt had imagined it to be. After getting rejected by NYADA, he was fortunate enough to have been picked up by Tisch at NYU and offered a scholarship that covered all four years of tuition and books – he just had to come up with room and board. He enjoyed his first year at school and waited excitedly for Blaine to join him for the next one.

But Blaine didn't join him for the next one. Blaine's father was still rather unsupportive of Blaine's sexuality and had decided that his job to provide an education for his son was done once he had completed high school. Mr. Anderson made far too much for Blaine to get any aid in the form of grants or scholarships, and he didn't want to take out huge loans that would be impossible to pay back after graduation. The only money Blaine had available was a small trust fund that his grandparents set up for him when he was born and that he gained access to when he turned eighteen. It wasn't enough to cover pretty much any school in New York, so Blaine made the heartbreaking decision to stay in Ohio for another year, taking general education credits at the local community college and working full time in order to make enough money to move to New York with Kurt the following school year.

Finally, Blaine was able to join Kurt in New York for Kurt's junior year and Blaine's sophomore year. The entire time Kurt had been in the city, he had been working only part time and supplementing his income with money from his savings account in order to pay rent and utilities and buy food. He was very frugal, but his savings still dwindled faster than he would like. He was happy to have Blaine by his side at last, first and foremost because he loved Blaine and missed him and ached to be near him, but also because two people meant two jobs which meant more money coming in.

Now that Blaine was officially out from under his father's roof, he was eligible for enough aid to pay for school – he chose to attend NYU as well – plus a little extra. Like about fifty dollars a month extra. It was something, sure, but it still wasn't much. Blaine immediately began pounding the pavement looking for a job. There wasn't a whole lot available, but a small mom and pop Chinese food place near the NYU campus hired him to handle all the deliveries to campus and a few blocks radius around it. He didn't have a bike or car so he wasn't able to make too many deliveries per shift, but he got paid in cash under the table every night. He did what he had to do.

Between Blaine's delivery job and Kurt's job as a barista at a tiny coffeehouse that was slowly succumbing to the downturning economy and the influx of chains like Starbucks that had cropped up in the area, they were holding on, but barely. Blaine's job only lasted a few weeks before the owner's nephew came sniffing around the family restaurant looking for work, and of course they had to give it to him – he was family, after all. It wasn't long after that before Kurt's shifts at the coffee shop became shorter and less frequent and his co-workers disappeared one by one until finally, he was the last man standing other than the owners when they finally put up their Closed for Good sign in the window. Kurt applied to all the other coffee shops in the area, but any available jobs had been snapped up by his fellow displaced co-workers. He was the victim of being the owners' favorite – had they kicked him out sooner, he might've been re-employed by then.

It just wasn't enough. They tried everything; Kurt sold off every bit of designer clothing he owned, hanging onto a few basics and fashionable pieces for potential job interviews, and Blaine busked in the subway as often as he could get away with without being sent packing by the cops, but such things were only a very temporary fix. It was only a matter of days before they received their first past due notice in the mail. It was embarrassing – the envelope didn't exactly say "You're late. Pay up, jackass," but _everyone_ knew there were different color envelopes for current bills and past due bills and theirs was definitely the past due color.

On a day when they found not one, not two, but three past due notices, Kurt's phone lit up with a call from home.

It was not good news.

It was horrible timing. Not that there ever is a good time for bad news, but in Kurt's case, it really couldn't be much worse. Kurt would be taking his final exams for the semester starting two days from then. He had to make the choice of whether to take his chances with his father and stay to take the exams or whether to go to his father. It was huge – his father or his own life, pretty much. It wasn't too much of a choice in his own mind, though – he and Burt Hummel were as close as a father and son could be. If the worst possible outcome happened and he wasn't there, he'd be filled with regrets for life, and that just wasn't an option. A few careful lies (I'm sorry, Carole, but I've had a huge project to work on and have been working fewer hours lately, so I don't have the money to come home, and no, Blaine won't be able to come with this time) netted Kurt a round-trip open ended return plane ticket to Ohio to see his severely ill father, who had had a heart attack worse than the first one in Kurt's junior year of high school, _just in case._

Kurt used a school computer to jot an email to all his professors, making them aware of his family situation, and promptly headed for the airport to catch his flight to Ohio.

He didn't tell his family anything about his and Blaine's financial situation while he was in Lima. Kurt was ashamed that he couldn't make it work, and it was a huge blow to his pride to admit it. Plus, he just couldn't – not now. His stepmother had far too much to worry about just keeping her husband alive and his medical care paid for. No, this was a burden that Kurt and Blaine would have to shoulder alone.

Burt again escaped death, even more narrowly than he had before, but he was alive, and Kurt was able to return home to Blaine. Two and a half weeks away didn't do anything to improve their situation – in fact, it was worse.

"_The constant barrage of phone calls started up almost as soon as you left. I counted twelve calls in the same day from one company, and that's not even including the calls for the others. It drove me nuts – it got so that the phone barely went five minutes without ringing," Blaine said tiredly._

_Kurt was confused. "I've been home for three hours and I haven't heard a peep out of that phone."_

_Blaine sighed. "That's what happens when the phone company finally gives up and shuts off your line. Silver lining, I guess."_

The morning after he returned home from Ohio, Kurt went to his school to check his email and to begin the process of making arrangements to take his finals with his professors. He had made the grave error of not checking his email on his family's computer while he was home. Had he done so, he would've seen that two professors outright refused him the right to take the final at another time, and the two others gave him a deadline which had long since passed.

But he _hadn't_ checked his email, and curiously, he had found that his school account had been denied access. He asked the resident computer geek for help, and with a few clicks, Kurt was informed that his student account had been closed.

A quick stop at the registrar's office told him that he had been given fails in all four of his classes because he had received zeros for the final exams he didn't take. With a zero GPA for the semester, his scholarship had been yanked, and he was no longer considered a student. He begged all four of his professors to have mercy on him; one of the two who had been willing to allow him to take a final before a deadline was still willing to let him take it, but the other wasn't, and the other two who were hardassed then were still hardassed now and stood by their denials. Even with a perfect grade on the one final, it wouldn't raise his GPA enough to get his scholarship back. He did arrange to take the final immediately in the class with the sympathetic professor so he would at least not have to retake that class when he was able to re-enroll in school.

_If_ he was able to re-enroll in school.

And with his financial situation as deep in the shitter as it already was, he pretty much had a snowball's chance in hell of ever seeing the inside of Tisch again.

He had been stoic through the majority of this crazy ride called life, but if anything had slapped him in the face and called him a loser, getting kicked out of school was it. School was the one thing he was pretty much sure he could handle with flying colors. And he failed. _Miserably_.

After his masochistic stop at their mailbox, Kurt trudged upstairs. He hoped Blaine would be home. No matter how deep in the hole they had gotten, no matter what shit had hit the fan, and no matter what they had had to do without, one thing remained constant – Blaine was always there with him.

He opened the door to their apartment and was just about to call the clichéd "Honey I'm home!" when he caught a glance of Blaine in the kitchen, bending over at the waist to dig a lid out of the pots and pans drawer underneath the stove.

"Well, if that view doesn't make my day a little better, I don't know what will," Kurt said. Blaine was startled; the room had been almost silent aside from the sound of water boiling on the stove, and Kurt's voice had surprised him, causing him to bump his head on the handle of the oven door as he straightened up.

"Ouch, dammit," he grumbled.

Kurt immediately went to his boyfriend, gently rubbing the spot that had gotten bonked. "I'm sorry, sweetie." He hugged Blaine and let his hands slide down Blaine's back to his rear end. "God, I love these jeans."

Blaine grinned. "I know. You told me this morning. You tell me every time I wear them. I believe you even emailed the company offering to carry the designer's children for them, just as soon as you could figure out how."

"I would, too! These jeans are just… ungh," Kurt groaned. He pulled Blaine close and started nibbling on Blaine's ear when the sound of water boiling over caused Blaine to jerk out of Kurt's arms and attend to the stove.

"Later, baby."

"Damn, I hope so. I've had the day from hell and I need you to kiss it and make it all better. There's nothing that cheers me up more than being with you."

"You're starting to lose your snarky edge – it must've been pretty bad."

Kurt got serious as the weight of all that had happened that day had begun to resettle upon him. "It actually really is," he said softly.

Blaine looked at Kurt for a second. He looked beyond Kurt's face and went straight for his eyes, straight for where the true story was lurking. He saw pain there, and his heart ached. Kurt had been through so much already.

Blaine stood on tippy toes to kiss Kurt on the forehead. "Let me finish with dinner. We can get some food in our stomachs and you can tell me what you obviously need to get off your chest."

Dinner was only a few minutes away from being finished when the lights flickered on and off once. Then twice. And then they stayed off. Kurt got up from his spot on the couch and carefully shuffled over to the nearest light switch, flipping it on and off a few times.

"Give it up, Kurt," Blaine said with a sigh. "Electricity isn't like trying to squeeze the last little bits of toothpaste out of the tube – there aren't any extra bits of electricity clinging to the insides of the wires." He quickly slapped the lid on the pot of boiling pasta. "Maybe if I'm lucky, we'll get enough carryover heat to cook this stuff the rest of the way," he said to himself.

Kurt shuffled back to the couch and flopped back down. It was getting dark outside, but this was the city. There were lights everywhere, so even though they had no lights of their own, the lights of the nearby buildings illuminated their apartment enough to see once their eyes had adjusted to the dark.

"_Shit,_" he cursed. "Well, that's that, I guess. The final notice in the mailbox today was from the electric company. Guess they got tired of waiting."

Blaine stepped carefully to the couch and handed Kurt a bowl. "The pasta might be still fairly al dente, but it should be edible. I'm sorry I couldn't make it any better."

Kurt sat silently for a moment, holding the bowl but not moving to eat anything out of it. "I'm sorry I couldn't make your life any better," he whispered, a tear rolling down his cheek. He set the bowl down on the side table and buried his face in his hands.

Blaine hurried to sit down next to Kurt. "No, no, hey no, honey, no. Don't you dare. Now, I won't deny our situation sucks and I'm not entirely certain what we're going to do about it, but I'd rather spend the shitty times in life with you than the best times in life without you."

"I just don't know how it's going to get any better. Just when I start to think it couldn't get any worse, it does."

Kurt looked up at Blaine. Blaine could see his face in the moonlight streaming through the window. The light caught the tears on his face, and they glistened. Blaine brushed the tears away, but they kept coming.

Something Kurt had said earlier rushed to the forefront of Blaine's mind. "Honey? You said you had a helluva day even before the lights went out. Can you tell me what's wrong?"

Kurt's face fell further, if that was even possible. His lip trembled violently, and a sob fought its way to the surface that Kurt just couldn't fight back. Blaine's heart shattered into pieces just looking at Kurt's face.

"_Oh sweetheart," _Blaine said, pulling Kurt into his arms and rubbing his back soothingly. "What is it?"

"I-I got k-kicked out of s-s-school," he choked out. "N-nobody let me t-take the final. I _failed,_ Blaine!"

Blaine didn't really have anything to say after that. What COULD he say? "You'll get 'em next time"? "No big deal, you can take those classes again next semester"? Nothing would help, so he just maneuvered his distraught boyfriend into a more comfortable position on the couch and held him while he cried. Blaine periodically brushed back a lock of hair or wiped away tears, and once he hummed a gentle melody in his ear, but he let Kurt's feelings work themselves out on their own time.

Finally the sobs slowed to mere sniffles, and Kurt's breathing returned to almost normal. His cheeks dried, and he no longer shook with emotion.

"Better?" Blaine ventured.

Kurt nodded slightly. "As much as I can be."

"Good." Blaine pressed a soft kiss on Kurt's lips and moved him into a sitting position, grabbing Kurt's bowl off the table and placing it in his hands. "You might want to eat this before it loses all its heat. It's not that great lukewarm, but it really sucks ice cold."

They sat quietly, leaned up onto one another, eating their dinner. It had unfortunately reached the "really sucks ice cold" stage, but they really didn't have a whole lot of other meal choices available so they just dealt so they would have something in their stomachs and so they wouldn't waste food.

It was still early, but with no electricity, their indoor entertainment choices were limited. Blaine suggested lighting some candles and reading together, but as nice as it sounded, Kurt really just wanted to go to bed. He wanted to revel in his own personal silver lining in every cloud he encountered: Blaine. Kurt was not one for religion, but he did say a few silent words of thanks daily to whichever entity chose to listen and wanted to take credit for crossing his path through life with Blaine's.

They found a flashlight and shared the bathroom for their nighttime routines. Kurt's complicated teenage skincare regimen had morphed into a lick-and-a-promise "I'm too tired to do this for two hours" adult routine of just ten minutes and two bottles of product, which no longer came from France but a lady with a booth at the farmer's market. He spent a lot less time and far less money, but his skin was just as beautiful as it had been then, so he must've been doing something right.

They finished at the same time and Blaine led Kurt, hand in hand, to the bed. Before he allowed Kurt to lie down, he perfunctorily stripped Kurt's clothing off him, and taking Blaine's lead, Kurt did the same for Blaine. Blaine tore back the soft blanket – it was worn, but so cozy that neither one of them could bear to get rid of it, and both swore that it would have to be in shreds before they did – and gestured for Kurt to crawl in first. Kurt snuggled into the warm flannel sheets and curled up on his side in the fetal position. Blaine quickly joined him and pulled the blanket up over their nude bodies. He had never intended for this to be anything more than full body comfort cuddling, but nature had other ideas. Kurt was having trouble getting comfortable, and he kept shifting positions. Try as he might, Blaine could not prevent his cock from becoming more and more _interested_ with every move Kurt made. He tried to hold his pelvis away from Kurt's rear end, but it didn't work; one particularly big shift ground Kurt's ass right into Blaine's crotch, and nature won out. He was at full mast and Kurt couldn't help but notice him now.

Kurt reached behind him and pulled Blaine's hips snugly against his ass, and then he slid his hands up, reaching for Blaine's own hands and guiding them to his chest. _Well, if this is the kind of comfort Kurt wants…_ he thought to himself. He slowly began to grind himself into Kurt's ass while tracing light circles around Kurt's hardening nipples. Pinching them caused Kurt to shuddered, and he began to writhe in Blaine's embrace, trying to find the friction he so desperately needed.

"_Blaine,_" he whispered hoarsely. "I _need_ you."

"How do you want me, baby?"

"I need you… inside me… just like this…"

Blaine pulled away from Kurt to reach back into the nightstand drawer for the lube. Kurt whimpered as he felt the loss of body heat, but Blaine rubbed his shoulder reassuringly while digging in the drawer with the other.

"It's okay, sweetheart, I'll be right back."

He managed to locate the bottle inside the drawer – the condoms had long since run out, but since they had been monogamous for years, they no longer felt the need to replace them – and rejoined Kurt. Kurt breathed a large sigh of relief as he again felt the familiar press of Blaine's body against his own. Kurt craned his head back as far as he could so he could kiss Blaine, and they shared a long, slow dirty kiss for a few moments before Kurt felt a twinge in his neck and had to face forward again. Blaine turned Kurt's body at the waist so Kurt's top half was laying on his side and his bottom half was laying on his front, giving Blaine better access to him. He lubed up his fingers generously and began tracing Kurt's tight hole with a feather-light touch. Kurt shivered at the sensation; Blaine was so good at knowing just how to drive him insane.

"Blaine, _please."_

"Patience, baby, patience. You know I'll take care of you."

Blaine slowly – a_gonizingly_ slowly – pressed a single finger through Kurt's entrance, ripping an unusually low moan from Kurt's throat.

"You like that, huh, babe," Blaine said, sliding his finger rhythmically in and out of Kurt.

"More…"

Blaine obliged him by adding a second finger and pushing them back inside. Kurt's breath hitched with the added stretch, but soon he was grinding back against Blaine's hand, trying to get them even a millimeter deeper within him.

"_Blaine…_" Kurt whined. Blaine added the third finger and thrust his fingers back and forth several times before bending his fingers slightly and ghosting past Kurt's prostate. It wasn't enough to stimulate him, but it was more than enough to frustrate Kurt; he knew how good it COULD be if Blaine would just. press. _harder. _DAMMIT.

"_FUCK_, Blaine. Stop teasing!"

Blaine grinned evilly, but he complied with his lover's request. He curled his fingers as he moved them inside Kurt and the pads of his fingers pressed almost roughly into his prostate. Kurt's whole body jumped on the bed at the sensation; he didn't come, but judging by the large amount of precome that had already leaked out of him, there was going to be one hell of a wet spot by the time they were done.

"Ungh," Kurt grunted. "Enough. Inside me. _Now," _he ordered.

Blaine chuckled. "Okay, okay. As you wish, baby." He withdrew his fingers from Kurt and poured another puddle of lube in the palm of his hand. Reaching down to his own cock, he slicked himself up generously, and with the excess lube in his hand , he reached around to stroke Kurt as well. Kurt, whose eyes had closed in anticipation, snapped to attention immediately with a strangled cry.

"Blaine, _stop,_ I'm so close already…"

Blaine kissed Kurt softly on the back of his neck and turned Kurt back so he was lying on his side again. He lifted Kurt's top leg and rested it on top of his own.

"Ready?" Blaine asked softly.

"_Yes," _Kurt whispered.

Blaine wrapped his arm around Kurt's waist and pulled Kurt tightly to him. He lined himself up with Kurt's hole and pressed slowly but surely inside. Kurt moaned deeply, his voice lower than Blaine thought he had ever heard it before, which proceeded to drive him absolutely wild. It took all of his self-restraint not to turn Kurt over onto his stomach and pound into him for all he was worth, but he couldn't allow himself to do so. Their intimacy was for closeness, for comfort, for reminding Kurt that Blaine was always there when he was needed; getting off was only a distant thought

Blaine held himself still inside of Kurt, giving him time to adjust. It was music to his ears when he heard Kurt's panted, _Blaine, MOVE, _shortly afterward.

In their current position, it was hard for Blaine to get much leverage or to get very deep, but the plus side was that every stroke was a direct hit on Kurt's prostate, which caused things to move faster than they thought possible. It seemed like only moments before Kurt was keening his release and pulling Blaine over the edge right behind him.

It was difficult in their current position to kiss each other on the lips, but Kurt seemed reluctant to let Blaine leave his body, so he settled for kissing every inch of Kurt's skin he could comfortably reach. After Blaine had softened to the point it was physically impossible to stay inside Kurt any longer, Blaine pressed Kurt onto his back, and he draped his body gently on top of him, helping himself to the kisses their previous position had deprived him of.

"Thank you," Kurt said, breaking the comfortable silence that had fallen upon him.

"For what?"

"For loving me. For always knowing what I need. And for still being here."

Blaine's heart broke all over again hearing the waver in Kurt's voice as he thanked Blaine for things he really didn't need to be thanked for.

"There is no place in this world I'd rather be. Why would I leave? Where would I go? Life is full of peaks and valleys. We may be in a valley right now, but we're going to pull ourselves out of it and we'll be shouting from the highest mountaintops again in no time. Together. I'm still all in. I've always been all in. You're stuck with me, baby."

Kurt began to cry. "I love you so much," he murmured against Blaine's chest through his sniffles.

"I love you too, Kurt." He took a moment to just cuddle the man that he adored with all his heart. "We're going to figure this out, Kurt. We're going to be okay, and when we're old men, we're going to look back on this period in our life and remember how much we learned and how much better we became because of it. Okay?"

Kurt nodded, uncharacteristically wiping his nose with the back of his hand. Blaine grimaced, knowing Kurt in his right mind would never do that. He casually reached over his shoulder to grab a tissue and dabbed at the tear tracks on Kurt's cheeks before handing it to Kurt so he could blow his nose.

"Thank you."

"You're very welcome. Now, I know we're going to have to do some very serious thinking and find some solutions in the morning, but for now, we need to sleep." Blaine rolled away from Kurt, and when he did, their skin peeled apart uncomfortably. "Yuck. And clean up, too." Kurt couldn't help but giggle at the disgusted look on Blaine's face. "I'm glad my crusty crotch could make you smile." Kurt laughed harder.

Blaine grinned cheesily, seeing his boyfriend genuinely smile for the first time that night, and if he was being totally honest, the first time for awhile. He vowed then to do whatever it took to put that smile back on Kurt's face more often.

Blaine extricated himself from Kurt's grasp and their warm bed, and he went about the task of cleaning them up for bed. The moment he slid back under the covers, Kurt burrowed himself back into Blaine's arms and got comfy. There was nothing better than the feel of Kurt in his arms.

"Goodnight, beautiful," Blaine said quietly.

"'Night, love," Kurt murmured in return.

**xXxXxXx**

Despite lying in bed for the better part of seven hours, Kurt got very little sleep. Blaine hadn't had the same problem – he had drifted off rather quickly after they were settled in for the night – but he wasn't half the worrywart that Kurt was. When Kurt was troubled, his brain went a mile a minute and there was no stopping it. Normally the fact that he couldn't always shut his brain off enough to sleep annoyed him to no end, but that particular night, even though he was pretty wiped out, it didn't bother him so much. He was able to brainstorm, and he came up with a few feasible ideas.

Since Blaine's financial aid was still intact, he was still in school, so it was up to Kurt to become the primary breadwinner. So he would begin as soon as possible that very day to go find some "bread" to "win." He planned on going to the library to update his resume and to look for places he could visit that might be hiring, and then he would spend the afternoon at the employment agency that had turned him down before because of his inability to work regular office hours due to school. Now that he didn't have school to contend with, maybe there would be something for him.

He also kicked around the idea of selling plasma. He remembered reading somewhere that it paid about $40 or so per time, and you could do it twice a week. Maybe if he went as often as allowed and got Blaine to go, too, they could get enough to turn their electricity back on within the week.

Kurt felt better now that he had plans. He hopped in the shower, which, thankfully, was warm since the water and water heater were included in the rent. The heat of the water and the pulse from the showerhead did much to soothe some of the knots that were in Kurt's shoulders. Afterward, he felt ready to face the day. He dressed fabulously, had some bread (untoasted) and butter for breakfast, and after kissing his still-sleeping boyfriend on the cheek, he headed out to try to change his fate.

His fate, however, was quite resistant to change. While he did get to the library to update his resume, printing it out cost money, and he hadn't brought a single cent with him. He had to hope that anyone who needed to see it wouldn't mind downloading it to their computer from the old flash drive he had had to store it on. After he left the library with a few leads written down in his notebook, he walked twenty blocks to the employment agency he had visited before, but they had gone out of business since the last time he had been there. He had remembered a second one about ten blocks away and headed toward that one. They were still in business, but instead of specializing in office jobs, this one staffed mostly for industrial positions. Kurt wasn't fussy – he was happy to give anything respectable and legal a try – but he had a gut feeling that they wouldn't be getting in touch with him any time soon. They took his name and his email address (since he didn't have a phone anymore) and kindly printed him a bunch of copies of his resume before telling him "we'll let you know" and sending him on his way.

Feeling discouraged, he decided to just head home for the day. He would keep his eyes open on his walk home for help wanted signs or places that he wouldn't mind working, but beyond that, he just wanted to be with Blaine.

The following couple of days went similarly to the first; Kurt would shower and dress to impress, visit the library to check his Gmail account and look for new job postings, and then hit the streets of Manhattan to pound the pavement, looking for something, ANYTHING, that would help him and Blaine to survive just that little bit longer.

On Friday afternoon, Kurt finally felt a little glimmer of hope. He was able to interview on the spot with a couple of people – the positions were for nothing more than part time store clerks, but it was money, so therefore any job was the job for him at that point. He had passed a street flower vendor on the way home; the vendor was tossing out a few bouquets that were a little wilted but still pretty, and when he found a bouquet reminiscent of one he had given Blaine in high school, he just had to rescue it with the vendor's blessing. He hoped to brighten Blaine's day just a little bit with the gesture.

He reached his building and took the steps to their floor two at a time, singing a nonsense song as he went. He burst through the door to their floor and stopped dead just in front of their door. What he saw made his blood run cold.

Piled haphazardly outside of their apartment door were all of their belongings, minus their furniture.

"Oh dear god," he said, his left hand over his heart, and his right hand losing the grip on the bouquet, the flowers dropping to the floor one by one.

The worst part was Blaine, nestled on the floor between two piles of their things, his head bowed and tears dripping from his face.

"Blaine," Kurt whispered. Blaine looked up at him, his eyes bloodshot and puffy.

"We've been evicted," Blaine said in a tiny voice. Kurt glanced at the door – there was a brand new lock on the door and a large, bright pink "Notice of Eviction" sign on the door.

"Well, that's it. We're fucked," Kurt said. "F-u-c-k-e-d fucked."

"What do we _do,_ Kurt?"

It was awful for Kurt to see Blaine look so completely downtrodden. Blaine had always been his rock. His constant. His source of light. But that light was dangerously close to fizzling out. Kurt knew right then that it was time – it was his turn to be the strong one.

Kurt offered his hand for Blaine to take. "Come here," he said. Blaine silently grabbed Kurt's hand, and Kurt pulled Blaine into his arms. They stood in an embrace for a long time.

Finally, they let go of each other. Kurt breathed in deeply and let it out slowly. "Okay," he said. "Here's what we're going to do. First of all, we're going to sort through this pile of stuff and take only what is important to us. We'll put it in our backpacks and suitcases, and whatever's left, we'll just have to leave." Blaine nodded, looking miserably at his keyboard. He'd be able to take his guitar with him because frankly, no way in hell would he leave it behind, but he would miss the keyboard.

"Then, just for tonight, we're going to go downstairs and sleep in the storage area. It's after hours, so no one will be in the building to kick us out, and no one ever goes down there because it's kind of creepy." Blaine shuddered; he didn't like the storage area either. Kurt noticed Blaine's reaction and rubbed his shoulders. "I know, sweetheart, but it's warm down there, and we'll be left alone. We won't be able to stay down there any more than tonight, so we need to take advantage of it. Tomorrow, we'll go and look for somewhere to live."

"But we don't have any money, where are we going to find a place… oh," Blaine said as realization had dawned upon him. He and Kurt were homeless now, and finding a place to live meant finding an unoccupied tree or doorway or the like.

"We'll try shelters first, of course, but we may not be lucky enough to get a spot, sweetie."

Blaine nodded. "Okay. I, um, need some time to process this. It never actually occurred to me that we would lose our home. I kind of don't really know what to think right now."

"I know. I understand. Let's just work on gathering our stuff and we'll talk some more later."

Together, Kurt and Blaine sorted through their things. Some things were easy to abandon – knickknacks, picture frames (though the pictures inside were removed and carefully tucked away), small appliances, and other things that would be of no use to them. Other things were harder; Blaine cried again when he added his keyboard to the stack of things he couldn't take with him, and they both had trouble with their autographed collection of Harry Potter books – they wanted so much to take them with, but clothes, toiletries, blankets, and the few non-perishables they had left that were ready to eat straight out of the packaging took precedence.

Before long, they were packed and ready to move. As they were readying themselves to move downstairs for the night, Blaine rummaged through the stack and retrieved one of the precious books. "We have to take this one," he said, holding up _Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone._ They both insisted upon the British versions of the books, complete with the Queen's English as originally written. "You read it to me when I was so sick. I remember hearing your sweet voice telling me of Harry's adventures hour after hour, even when I wasn't conscious enough to understand. I can deal without the others, but we have to have this one."

Kurt wouldn't have disagreed anyway, but the pleading puppy-dog eyes would've melted even the iciest heart. "Of course, sweetie." He worked with Blaine to find the safest spot in their bags and tucked it away.

Finally, they moved downstairs. The pair was silent for some time, stacking their belongings in the corner and taking out only what they'd need for the night. They ate a meager dinner of some granola bars that they didn't particularly like but weren't in any position to look down on now, and after throwing their wrappers away, they spread a thin blanket on the floor to lay on and curled up underneath a second blanket with bundled up clothing as pillows.

"Kurt, can I ask you something?"

"Anything, Blaine."

"Why is there no mention of calling your family in your plan? We both know we can't call mine, but we're really up shit creek here, Kurt. I'm going along with what you've said so far because I trust you with my life, but …"

Blaine trailed off and waited for Kurt to answer. Kurt was surprised this hadn't come up sooner, but he figured Blaine was in shock and he himself had shifted into survival mode. The time for questions was now.

"I've thought about asking my family for help many times now. Even before anything went overdue. But my father is really sick, Blaine. I mean REALLY sick. He's out of the hospital, and he's no longer knocking on death's door, but he's still living in death's neighborhood, if you'll forgive the horrible analogy. He's very fragile, and any bit of stress could be what finally tips the scales.

"After he woke up, he kept telling anyone he came in contact with how proud he was of me. That I was his son who was going to college in the Big City and I was going to be a star and nothing could stop me. How could I burst his bubble, Blaine? How could I tell him that, aside from you, my life had gone to shit? And hell, it was bad then when I went back to Lima, but now, without school or a home? I just can't do it, Blaine. I just don't have the heart to burst my dad's bubble and tell him his son is a fucking _failure. _I have to protect my dad, and I will do so by any means possible. If that means I have to suck it up for awhile and live on the streets until I can save up some money for first month's rent somewhere, then I'll do it."

Kurt turned and looked directly into Blaine's eyes. "But Blaine… if you've had enough, if you're done dealing with this… I wouldn't blame you if you wanted to leave, find some help somewhere and get yourself out of this. I would understand. You –" Kurt fought hard to keep his voice from breaking, "you don't have to stay here with me."

"It's okay to ask for help, Kurt," Blaine said softly.

"I know. But not them. Not now. If Dad hadn't just almost died again, I would feel better about it, but I need to pull myself up out of my own hole I've dug. Even if I'm alone while doing it."

"You won't be alone, sweetheart. I'll be here. But I need you to promise me that if it gets any worse than it already is, we'll call them."

"I don't really see how it could, but okay."

"Can I ask you another question, Kurt? What was with the flowers you brought home?"

"Oh!" he said, remembering what he had been eager to tell Blaine when he got home. "I kind of had to scrounge them, but they reminded me of that bouquet I got for you after the West Side Story auditions. I had wanted to share with you my good, or at least decent news…"

Kurt told Blaine about the job interviews he had had and how they would email him if they decided to hire him – he would know within a week – and how they weren't actually bad jobs. It was the first bright spot either of them had had in a little while, so Blaine was happy to just hold Kurt and let him ramble on.

They laid in each other's arms and just talked for hours. A great many serious matters had been discussed, including how Blaine would deal with school while they were homeless (he wouldn't – it was early enough in the semester where he could still drop his classes without any consequence to his transcript), and a great many completely frivolous things were talked about as well. It was easy for them to forget that they were in a dark, dank corner of a creepy storage room in the basement of their former apartment building – the outside world just kind of disappeared when they were together.

The world showed up in full force in the morning, though. Their bodies were so very stiff from sleeping on a cement floor all night, and the weight of their situation truly crashed down on them the moment they remembered where they were.

"Shit, Kurt, we really need to buy a new mattress. It feels like I slept on a rock all – oh," Blaine said, realizing exactly why his body was aching so badly.

Kurt found himself apologizing to Blaine for what felt like the millionth time, but Blaine wasn't having any of it. "Kurt, stop. We've been over this."

Kurt nodded and silently began gathering up their blankets, folding them carefully and stowing them before standing and stretching the kinks out of his body. He looked at his watch, noting that it was nearly 9am. "We should probably get moving. We don't want to be forcibly removed from the premises or anything."

Together they left, for the last time, their apartment building together and started walking. Kurt wanted to find a restroom where they could freshen up and then hit the library to see if there were any messages for him about the jobs he had applied for. Blaine agreed, since he needed to find work, too..

The subway restrooms were about as clean as Kurt had expected them to be, which was not at all, but they had running water and allowed him to wash his face and brush his teeth, so Kurt marked one in the "win" column. He decided that for his "other" business, he could wait 'til they got to the library.

With as many tourists as there were in New York City on any given day, the fact that they were walking around hauling suitcases and bags with them was not given a second thought by anyone, and for that they were grateful. They did not want any undue attention drawn to them; their lives were far from normal, now, and staring would only make it worse.

Upon entering the library, they headed straight for the computers, making a beeline for the only one available. Kurt pulled up his Gmail account and found nothing. He shouldn't have been surprised as it was less than twenty-four hours since he had interviewed for the two positions, but he still felt a wave of disappointment. There was also an email from Carole updating him on his father's wellbeing; he replied, but he kept it light and pretty much information-free.

Kurt and Blaine spent several hours putting together Blaine's own job search, and finally they had had to stop due to crossed eyes and rumbling stomachs.

"What should we have?" Kurt asked.

Blaine thought for a few moments. "We could go to the dollar store and get some bread and peanut butter. Maybe even some jelly. It'd be a few pretty cheap meals that we wouldn't have to cook."

"Good call, babe." Kurt gave him a peck on the cheek, and together they headed out to get their shopping done. After picking up their food (and putting in job applications at the dollar store while they were there), they walked leisurely to Central Park to eat.

They sat in companionable silence after making their first round of sandwiches. Blaine had a troubled look on his face, though, and Kurt asked him what was on his mind.

"I'm scared, Kurt. Aren't you scared? I'm scared out of my mind. What's going to happen to us? What'll we do if we can't find work? What if we're out here for a really long time?"

"To be honest, I'm still operating in survival mode. I haven't hit freakout mode yet, but I suspect if you're there, I won't be far behind. We're doing everything I know how to do, baby. If it doesn't work, it doesn't work, but this is me. I can't go crawling to my family without at least having tried to claw my way to the surface. I don't admit failure easily. Not even now."

Blaine nodded. "Do you think we CAN do this without help?"

"I don't know. I really don't. I tell you one thing, though. This whole mess has made me realize how absolutely privileged I've been growing up. There were a few harder times growing up after Mom died where Dad made us go without A/C to save on the electric bill, or he brought home more rice and beans than meat, and there was a time where he had the cable turned off for about a year, but that was absolutely nothing like this. This is a wake up call."

"For me, too. My parents have more money than a lot of people know what to do with. They don't ever do anything good with it, either, like help people who have it worse than we do right now. I don't think I could be rich and not spread it around."

"And that, honey, is just one reason out of many that proves you are better than your parents." Kurt leaned over to give Blaine a quick peck on the lips.

"Thanks," Blaine said shyly. It made him feel good when he was reminded that he was not like his parents. He never wanted to be like them.

They cleaned up their lunch and curled up together against the tree they were sitting under. "We should probably see about finding a place to stay pretty soon. I've heard that if you want a place to stay, you've got to get there early or they fill up fast."

They began the walk to a men's shelter several blocks away. They waited in line for a half an hour before reaching the front. The person running the door looked the two over carefully. "You two look pretty good – you been on the streets long?"

Kurt shook his head. "We got evicted yesterday."

"C'mon in. We still got room. You guys got the two beds in the back corner. Give ya a piece of advice. Keep your pants on and your valuables in your pockets. Mosta the guys here ain't gonna mess with ya, but they won't be able to keep their hands to themselves if they see sometin' shiny that catches their eye. Food's at six, lights out at ten, and ya gotta be outta here by eight in the morning. Lather, rinse, repeat if ya wanna come back again tomorrow. Got it?"

"Sounds good. Thanks," Kurt said, but the shelter worker had already moved onto the next man in line.

They sought out their beds: two pancake-thin cots with threadbare bedding and flat pillows. One look and Kurt had never missed his Egyptian cotton sheets more. Blaine looked at Kurt with a knowing expression on his face.

"I know what you're thinking, Kurt. But just think of how much you'll appreciate your 800-thread count when we're in a position to have them again."

Kurt took a deep breath and nodded. "I know. It just…"

"Sucks."

"Yeah."

Not wanting to be too demonstrative in such a place – New York was generally an accepting city, but who knows what the clientele inside a men's shelter thought – Blaine settled on giving Kurt a quick single armed hug, and the two set about making their two cots their home for the evening. Blaine's cot was against the wall; he shoved his guitar all the way underneath his bed against the wall and then pushed his suitcase right in to block it from view. Kurt put the few truly valuable things he had underneath his own bed closest to Blaine and took his chances with the side facing the neighbor that had yet to show up. They decided that since there were two of them, they would take turns eating, using the restroom, and doing whatever else they needed to do to that would take them away from their belongings. Their bags were all they had left in the world, and if they could protect them, they would.

After a rather blasé meal of low-grade beef, watery gravy, powdered mashed potatoes, and canned green beans (which were truly awful, but it was hot and it was free, so neither Kurt nor Blaine complained), Kurt joined Blaine on Blaine's bed and pulled out a deck of cards. Kurt preferred Hearts, but the classic old game of War would keep them occupied for longer, and they wouldn't have to keep score, so he shuffled and dealt out the game. Three rounds later, the lights flashed; it was almost lights out.

They decided to forgo any pajamas and just sleep in that day's street clothes. They took turns with their nighttime ablutions and snuggled down into their beds.

"Oooh, backache, here I come," Blaine said quietly.

"Ugh, tell me about it. I envision a permanent crick in my neck after this."

For as long as the two had lived together, they had never gone to bed without a kiss and an I love you. They didn't plan on breaking the tradition, but they did wait the few minutes until the overhead lights went out before leaning over the space between their beds and joining in a chaste kiss.

"I love you, Blaine," Kurt said sleepily, exhausted from their first day of homelessness.

"I love you too, Kurt. Always," Blaine replied, yanking the thin blanket over his shoulders and doing his best to make himself comfortable for the long night ahead.

**xXxXxXx**

Kurt wasn't sure if it was his internal clock or the sound of activity from his neighbors, but he was awake at 5:30am, unable to sleep any longer. Blaine was still asleep, his face looking far more at peace while he was at rest than it had looked any time in recent history while he was awake. Kurt hated to wake him, but he wanted to make sure that they were following all the shelter rules so they would be allowed back again.

He sat up in his bed and reached underneath to dig in his bag for fresh clothing. His hands stopped halfway to his suitcase; the zipper looked tampered with. He dragged it up onto his bed to inspect it – thankfully, it appeared as though everything was still there, but he did not enjoy the feeling of his things being rifled through. _Par for the course,_ he told himself resignedly.

After he had gathered his change of clothes and toiletries, Kurt jiggled Blaine awake and padded off to wait his turn in line for a space in the communal bathroom. It didn't take too long; there weren't too many people awake at this time of morning. Kurt changed, washed, and brushed and headed back to Blaine. Blaine, being a little less modest than Kurt, had already changed his clothes ("all boys school, Kurt, I got used to it pretty fast") and hurried off to finish getting ready. They were fed and back out on the street by 7am.

"What should we do today?" Kurt asked.

Blaine adopted a snooty-sounding voice and said, "Well, Muffy has an all day spa treatment scheduled, and Alison was planning on taking the limo up to 5th Avenue and buying them out. I myself have a golf date with the Donald himself and I'm supposed to pick him up at Trump Tower in an hour. Feel free to join us."

Kurt giggled. "I don't know what the Donald will think about an unwashed homeless schlep tagging along. But really, what are we going to do today?"

Blaine changed his voice again. "Same as we do every day, Pinky. Try to take over the world!"

Kurt laughed harder and shoved Blaine playfully. "Blaine! Behave!"

Blaine spoke through a huge grin on his face. "Okay okay okay. So, I think we should probably do what we did yesterday. Library for emails and job hunting, grab our highly gourmet meal of peanut butter sandwiches, and then find a place to chill out in the park. I personally vote for finding somewhere more secluded than usual so I can get myself allllll up in your grill. This not being able to touch you whenever I want makes me feel like I haven't been with you in _ages._"

Kurt involuntarily shuddered. "Ungh. Uh y-yeah, that sounds good," he said, gulping. Suddenly the few hours between then and afternoon felt like days away.

It was this second day of being on their own on the streets of New York City that they began to establish their daily routine. They were the first ones in the doors of the giant library, and they were quick to get down to business. Their email accounts hadn't yet shown any promising leads, but they tossed out the obligatory lines and hoped for a nibble or two. If the weather was fine, they left the library as soon as their "morning chores" were finished. If the weather was iffy, they frequented the room where they could view DVDs and watched movies together until the sky outside had turned friendlier or until they were bored to tears and couldn't stay in one place any longer. Blaine liked to take out his guitar and play a lot, too. He got more money if he busked down in the subway, but they both enjoyed the fresh air of Central Park much more. It would never be enough to live solely on, nowhere near, but if it kept a little bit of food in their stomachs, it was better than nothing.

Lunch was mostly the same; there weren't too many things that they could purchase cheaply and that did not require heating or refrigeration that were good for meals. Pull-tab cans of cheap tuna and mayo packets squirreled away from the condiment bars in restaurants either made into sandwiches or paired with slightly stale crackers made for a nice change after so many days of PB and sometimes J. After cleaning up their lunches, they would share the few crumbs with the birds and gravitate towards one of their favorite hidey holes around the city. Most were in Central Park, but on the occasions that they ventured far away from the middle of Manhattan, they had a few places down toward the harbor where they liked to cuddle up together. They were always carefully, however, no matter how far away they roamed in a particular day, to get back to the shelter in time to claim meals and beds for the night. While they didn't mind spending their days outdoors, they weren't quite ready to experience an overnight.

**xXxXxXx**

A couple weeks into their new way of living, Kurt and Blaine were curled up together in their favorite spot, as usual, after their daily fruitless attempt at finding work. The employers that Kurt had felt so hopeful about hadn't panned out, and it appeared that the employers they were applying with were reluctant to work with someone who had no home address or reliable method of communication. Understandable, they supposed, but it made it that much harder to dig themselves out of the hole they had found themselves in.

The secluded place they were currently occupying was their favorite because it was exposed to almost no weather or prying eyes. They were sure that, at night, it became someone else's favorite spot because there were always remnants of trash strewn about, but during the day, it was theirs, and they were taking full advantage of their seclusion. There was no "conjugal visiting" in the shelter so they had been without for much longer than they were used to. They had tried to do as much as they could with only a minimal dropping of trou, but "going all the way" just wasn't working; they couldn't get coordinated.

"God, this _sucks,_" whined Kurt after yet another failed attempt. "I miss you. I miss you inside me."

Blaine sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth. Kurt whispering suggestive things in his ear was NOT helping. He pulled away from Kurt and began doing up his pants.

"Blaine, I'm sorry," Kurt said in a small voice.

Blaine sighed. "Don't apologize, sweetheart. Product of our misfortune, I guess. But damn, we have GOT to get ourselves back on our feet SOON."

Kurt nodded sadly, and after both of them had redone their clothing, Blaine settled back down and wrapped his arms around Kurt. Kurt snuggled into Blaine's strong, comforting arms and laid his head upon his chest, closing his eyes and attempting to shut out the world. Very softly, Blaine began to sing.

_Don't go changing, to try and please me  
You never let me down before  
Don't imagine you're too familiar  
And I don't see you anymore  
I wouldn't leave you in times of trouble  
We never could have come this far  
I took the good times, I'll take the bad times  
I'll take you just the way you are_

Kurt smiled and let himself be lulled to sleep by the soothing sound of his boyfriend's voice. When Blaine could tell that Kurt had fallen completely under, he stopped singing and watched Kurt sleep. The slight whistling of his exhalations and the rhythmic up and down of his chest combined with the sound of the wind rustling through the leaves on the trees was enough to tempt Blaine into dozing just a few minutes…

**xXxXxXx**

Kurt woke up slowly, his body stiff from being in the same position for so long. He stretched, his eyes still closed, and finally, he pried his lids open, wrestling them from the sleep crusties. He knew immediately that something was wrong, very wrong, but he wasn't quite able to put his finger on it.

But then he realized… it was dark.

REALLY dark.

He hadn't been outside in the dark in quite some time, because they were normally inside readying their cots for the night at the shelter.

Kurt began to panic. No, not panic – freak out.

"Blaine, BLAINE," he said frantically as he shook Blaine awake.

"I'm up, I'm up," Blaine mumbled sleepily. "What's wrong, baby? Why are you… oh. Oh shit. What time is it?"

Blaine, being the only one of the two who owned a wristwatch (Kurt had been dependent on his cell phone for the time until it was cut off), looked at the time and physically blanched. "Oh god – it's 7:45. How the hell did this happen? We slept for four hours. How could we let this happen?"

Kurt felt himself getting a little defensive. "Well, to be fair, I can't sleep in that shelter. The beds are laughable, there's so much noise, and we can't sleep together…"

"But it's the best we have right now, Kurt! Well, had, anyway. We have NOTHING now."

"Blaine, stop it," Kurt whispered, tears starting to streak down his face.

Blaine's face fell the moment he realized what his words were doing to his boyfriend. "Oh god, Kurt, I'm so sorry. I… I'm just… I'm so scared, Kurt. I don't know what to do now."

"I don't know, either, but we're going to have to figure it out. And fast."

Blaine thought for a moment. "I don't think we have any choice but to try to stay here for the night," he decided. "From what I understand, none of the shelters take people after five. And we have to be kind of hidden so we don't get in trouble for loitering."

"We can try to just stay in this spot," Kurt suggested. "I can tell we're not the only people who use this spot, but maybe we'll get lucky and whoever comes here at night won't tonight."

"Okay," Blaine agreed. "We've always thought it was rather cozy here."

"And I have to admit, I'm really looking forward to being able to spend an entire night snuggled up to you."

"It's been getting a little chillier at night lately, though. Maybe we should dig through our bags and put a little bit more clothing on?"

"Oh!" Kurt perked up. "I've been missing my scarves. And my thicker sweaters!" He excitedly pawed through his suitcase and came up with a perfectly coordinated ensemble. Blaine could only chuckle. You can take Kurt away from his walk-in closets, but you can't cramp his sense of style. Blaine was sorry to see his boyfriend even more covered up than usual, but the look on his face when Kurt pulled on his fashionable warmer clothes was something he hadn't seen in a little while.

Blaine himself just pulled his favorites out of the bag, not caring whether or not he matched. His old sweats from high school were still the warmest, most cozy things he owned, and he wasn't going to pass up the opportunity to wear them.

Blaine burrowed his nose into his clothes, smelling the freshness. "Damn I'm glad we splurged on the Laundromat last week. These still smell amazing."

"They smell like cheap detergent. But you're right – it smells amazing compared to the vast amount of less than fresh smelling people in the shelter."

They tugged on their extra layers over their current outfits (and Blaine had no idea how Kurt managed it – it seemed like EVERY item he owned was skin tight, so he didn't understand how anything would fit over anything else) and grabbed a meager bite to eat from their mini stash of food.

Kurt carefully rearranged their suitcases and Blaine's guitar case, making sure to hide them out of view as best as he could – normally, they just left them out in the open as they were (usually) awake to watch them, but if they were to get any sleep at all, their belongings would have to join them in their hidey hole. Finally, Kurt stood the suitcases up against the small embankment that formed one end of their space, and he propped up the guitar against a tree near their feet.

After Kurt had declared their temporary sleeping quarters as comfortable as it got, Blaine laid down and pulled Kurt down next to him. Blaine laid on his back and Kurt laid on his side, snaking his chilly hand up underneath Blaine's shirt, and Blaine shuddered.

"Damn, Kurt, your hand is freezing!"

"Well, it won't be for long, Mr. Space Heater," Kurt smirked. He scooted up and shared a long, lingering kiss with Blaine before returning to his previous position.

"C'mon," he said. "The sooner we get to sleep, the sooner morning will come, and then we can get back to our usual routine. We won't make the mistake of falling asleep out here again."

Blaine nodded. "Okay. Good night, baby. I love you."

"Love you too, Blaine," he murmured.

**xXxXxXx**

"Well what do we have here?" a deep, croaky voice said, startling both Kurt and Blaine out of a deep sleep.

"Looks like a couple of twinky boys getting busy in our spot, Joe," replied a higher pitched whinier voice.  
What d'ya make of that?"

Kurt reflexively jumped to his feet. "Oh, I'm so sorry. We didn't know this spot was taken," he said, though they were well aware that it was a possibility. He began yanking Blaine into a standing position as well. "We'll just grab our stuff and be on our way." Together they scurried to gather their things, but they were stopped almost as quickly as they began.

"I don't think so, lady boys," Joe drawled. "I think Frankie and me here are in need of some new 'stuff,' and I think your fancypants suitcases will do us quite nicely, don't you Frankie?"

Frankie laughed far too hard for something that wasn't that funny. "Yeah, Joe," he managed to spit out between his creepy chuckles.

"But it's all we have," Blaine protested weakly.

"Well, you don't see us ownin' nothin' fancy like this shit, do ya?" Joe said. "I think it's time for you boys to share the wealth."

"But…"

Just then, Kurt caught of flash a light caused by the reflection of something metal in the moonlight. He looked down to the source of the light and barely choked back a scream.

"Blaine, we have to go," he whispered urgently, tugging on Blaine's sleeve. "Now."

"Kurt, we can't just let them – "

"He has a fucking knife, Blaine! Let's GO."

"You heard your fruity little boyfriend. Get out, or I'm sure we'll find a way to make you leave. One way or another," Joe sneered, making sure the knife blade looked as sinister as possible by purposely catching the moonlight.

Without another word, Kurt and Blaine ran. When they had gotten a short distance away, Blaine stopped dead in his tracks.

"Shit, my guitar," he swore, and he turned around to head back in the direction they had just fled from.

"Blaine! What the hell are you doing?" Kurt hissed, grabbing the back of Blaine's collar in an attempt to stop him. He was shocked that Blaine would even consider going back.

"My guitar was hidden from their view. They probably don't know it's there. I can sneak back and grab it without them knowing, I think."

"Blaine, no! I'm sorry you lost it, but we'll get you another damn guitar when we get back on our feet. I'm not letting you risk getting cut by two guys over a guitar!"

"I have to go back, Kurt. We have nothing. At least with the guitar, I can busk and maybe earn enough money to keep us from starving." He jerked his collar out of Kurt's grip and determinedly continued his mission.

Scared but resigned, Kurt followed him. He wasn't sure what kind of help he could provide if Blaine got himself caught, but he'd be damned if he let Blaine go back alone.

When they were within sight of the two men, Blaine stopped and observed. The men were digging through Kurt's suitcase, holding up Kurt's fancy clothes to their body and laughing. Kurt was indignant but remained silent.

"Hoo-ey boy, look at them fancy drawers!" Frankie said, pulling a pair of skimpy red briefs from Kurt's bag.

While the men were distracted rummaging through their things, Blaine crawled closer to the tree where his guitar was. It was very close to where the men were standing, but the whole area was in shadow. As long as Blaine was extremely careful, he might be able to pull off his rescue mission. Kurt remained hidden a short distance away, far enough to escape undetected if something happened to Blaine.

Kurt found himself barely able to breathe as he watched his boyfriend inch closer and closer to his prized guitar. He could hardly see Blaine, and he knew exactly where Blaine was, so he had high hopes that the men who stole their things couldn't see him, either.

Kurt nearly had a heart attack when something, a twig or clump of dry leaves or something, crackled under Blaine's foot. Both he and Blaine froze momentarily, but the thieves could hardly be bothered to pay attention to such a tiny noise.

Finally… finally… Blaine's fingers grasped around the handle of the guitar case and he slowly and carefully lifted it off the ground. Blaine raised it over his head like a trophy, causing Kurt to nearly ruin everything and squeal in triumph; he would have to smack Blaine later for making him almost do such a disastrous thing.

Blaine crept along oh so carefully, nearly tripping once but easily catching himself, until he reached where Kurt was standing with almost statue-like stillness. He didn't even move when Blaine was right next to him – it took the press of his lips on Kurt's cheek and Blaine pulling him away from the area to get Kurt to snap out of it and follow him.

When they were well out of sight and hearing distance, Kurt took a few deep gasping breaths, and Blaine let out a massive sigh of relief. They had made it, and while they had lost everything else, they had managed to retrieve a tiny source of hope. They walked quietly to the edge of Central Park and had begun to make their way toward Times Square. As soon as they reached Broadway, Kurt collapsed to his knees on the street corner.

"Kurt! Honey? Are you okay? Are you hurt? Do I need to get you to a hospital?" Blaine asked frantically, inspecting his boyfriend, looking for injuries. The moment he looked in Kurt's eyes, however, he knew the problem. He carefully set the guitar case down to the side and knelt on the ground next to him. Kurt's eyes were welling up with tears, and his lip was quivering. It was clear – the adrenaline rush was wearing off, and the reality of what had just happened was beginning to hit Kurt.

Blaine scooted them backwards to lean against the building nearest them and pulled Kurt into a tight hug. "Baby, we're okay now. I promise. Those men didn't give a shit about hurting us. All they wanted was our stuff. If they wanted anything more, they would've come after us, but they didn't even give us a second glance. We're okay."

"You didn't see the knife, though," he whispered, his voice somewhat hoarse. "It was big. And shiny. If they had hurt you…" He choked up and couldn't say anything more.

Blaine held Kurt to his chest until a police officer stopped to see what the matter was.

"You boys okay over here?" he asked suspiciously.

"Yes, Officer. We're okay. My boyfriend wasn't feeling well so we stopped to rest for a bit."

"Well, you can't stay here. I'm going to need you to move along."

Silently, Blaine obeyed the officer by standing up and yanking Kurt to his feet next to him, instinctively keeping his hands where the officer could see them just to prove there was no funny business going on. Kurt swayed a bit before he regained his balance, but as he did, he smiled slightly at the officer to show him everything was okay. The officer nodded curtly and moved on.

The boys walked very, very slowly toward Times Square. Kurt had a death grip on Blaine's hand, and Blaine wasn't sure he wouldn't lose the use of it by the time they got there, but he didn't ask Kurt to loosen his grasp. Truth was, Blaine had been scared to death, too – it was just his turn to be brave for both of them, and he wasn't planning on shirking his duty.

Their dawdling killed some time, but they still arrived at Times Square long before dawn. They walked along nearby streets, taking the opportunity to rest at any establishment that had tables or a bench or anything to sit on in front of it. When the first beams of sunlight finally began to fall on New York City, they figured it would be safe to go to the red steps and hang out there; for some reason, what was considered loitering late at night was perfectly okay to do during daylight hours.

They perched on the very top step and watched the citizens of New York go about their day. Nearly everyone out and about at that time of day was a local – the tourists tended to sleep in a bit. They only had a few more hours before they could retreat to their familiar safe haven, the library.

Kurt's stomach growled loudly, and Blaine's hand immediately reached down to his pocket to count the few coins he had left in there. Kurt clapped his own hand over Blaine's and shook his head.

"No, Blaine. We need to sit down and have a proper discussion about what's next. I don't think we should spend the little we have until we do. We can talk when we get to the library. Until then, I'll be fine."

Blaine wanted to argue, but the strongly determined look on Kurt's face discouraged him, and he just nodded and changed the subject. Pointing out a horrendous fashion faux pas was enough to animate Kurt and take both of their minds off their situation, if only for a few moments.

After awhile longer, Kurt shifted uncomfortably. "How long have we been sitting here? My ass is killing me. Is it time to head to the library yet?"

Blaine looked at his watch. "It's a bit early, but if we walk slowly, we should kill enough time."

They descended the steps carefully – after having sat there so long, their limbs were a bit numb – and headed toward the library. Once they arrived, they only had to wait fifteen minutes for admittance. They made a beeline for the teen area. It was the middle of the school year, so it was quiet in there during the day. There was a cozy reading area complete with beanbag chairs; it was very comfortable, and after the night the two had had, they just needed to kick back and relax.

They chose the largest beanbag and cuddled up on it together – it was a bit small for two adult men, but they made it work. They needed to be close to each other then more than ever.

After laying there for a bit, Blaine hesitantly brought up the pink elephant in the room. "So, what are we going to do now?"

Kurt sighed. "I have no idea. I really don't. Until last night, I actually had a shred of hope left. Now I'm feeling utterly hopeless."

While they were chatting, unbeknownst to them, they were being watched. The spy listened carefully to their entire conversation, her heart breaking for them the more they talked. She observed until the conversation tapered off, the two men no closer to a solution than they were when they arrived. Exhausted, Kurt succumbed to sleep with Blaine quickly following. When it was obvious that they were completely out, she stepped away from the teen area and selected a number from speed dial on her phone.

"Hello, Burt? I found them. And it's not good."

**xXxXxXx**

Before Burt Hummel had even hung up the phone with Rachel, he was scurrying around his bedroom haphazardly tossing his things into a suitcase. He was just about to head down the stairs to his car, but as he passed Kurt's childhood bedroom, he dropped his own suitcase outside the door and began to raid the dresser for a few changes of clothing for his son and his boyfriend. They didn't keep much in Ohio, but there was enough there to last them until Burt could get them home with him.

As quickly as he could, he jumped in his car and gassed up for the long trip ahead of him. Rachel kept an eye on the boys' whereabouts all day – it had taken her a long time to locate them, and she couldn't let them slip away from her now. Every hour or so, Burt received a text from Rachel if their location hadn't changed or a quick phone call if it had. When it was nearing 4:30pm, she called him, informing him that they were standing in line for admittance to a shelter. He was only halfway to New York by that point, so they agreed that she would watch until they had entered the building. Once they had, she asked the man running the door when people would start leaving in the morning. She was told that breakfast would be served beginning at 6:30am and that pretty much no one left the building before then since no one was ever interested in refusing a free meal.

Burt arrived in the city at 10pm and got a hotel a short walk from the shelter. Rachel met him there and informed him in more detail of his boys' struggles, and then she hugged him while he cried. He wanted to rush into that shelter right that moment to see them, but he knew there would be no way he'd be allowed inside after the shelter was full; he'd have to wait until morning. He bade Rachel goodnight, thanking her profusely for her help.

Burt barely slept. When he did sleep, he began dreaming of all the awful things that COULD have happened to Kurt and Blaine out on the streets, and he woke up in a sweat with his heart pounding. Deciding that his heart would be better off if he just didn't sleep, he turned on the television in his room and watched mindless television until he was too exhausted to even dream. At 2am, he slipped into a blissfully dreamless sleep.

His internal clock woke him up at 5:59am, just one minute before his alarm was set to go off. He quickly used the restroom and got dressed. Following the directions Rachel had left for him, he found the shelter quickly, and he found a place a few doors down with a place to sit that was close enough for him to observe the men as they left the shelter. Burt settled down and waited with his eyes glued to the shelter's door.

At 7:15am, after about a dozen and a half men that weren't Kurt and Blaine had already left, Burt saw his boys walk out of the shelter. They had their arms wrapped around each others' waists and blank looks on their faces. They wandered slowly in Burt's direction, not really seeing anything they had passed.

As Kurt and Blaine walked past the small café several doors down from the shelter, Kurt heard his name being called in a voice that wasn't Blaine's. He focused on the direction the voice was coming from and his jaw dropped.

"DAD?" he said, the surprise evident in his voice.

Burt opened his arms in response, and Kurt threw himself into his father's strong arms. Blaine stood a few steps back with disbelief on his face.

"Burt, what are you doing here?"

Burt merely shook his head and gestured to Blaine to get over there and join in the hug already. Blaine didn't need to be told twice and let himself be enveloped by the man he had always seen as more of a father to him than his own ever was.

"God it's good to see you boys," Burt said emotionally. "We've been worried sick!"

Burt's words caused Kurt to burst into tears. He buried his face into his father's shoulder, mumbling, "I'm so sorry," repeatedly. Burt looked to Blaine, who was pretty close to crying himself, for an explanation.

"Why didn't you tell us things were so bad?"

Blaine shrugged. "Pride, I guess. And Kurt was so worried about your health – we didn't want to cause you any extra stress."

Burt rolled his eyes. "Yes, like not knowing for weeks on end if my boys were okay or even alive wouldn't stress me out," he said sarcastically. "We were just about to file a missing persons report on both of you when Rachel finally found you!"

"Rachel?" Kurt asked curiously.

"Yes, Rachel. When we couldn't get ahold of you – your phone had been turned off and you stopped replying to emails, not that the ones you DID reply to ever gave us any information – we called Rachel and asked her to check in on you boys. She arrived at your apartment building only to find someone else living in your place. She asked the building manager for a forwarding address and found out you boys had been evicted and had left no forwarding address, though the amount of overdue notices the manager found in your mailbox gave her the sneaking suspicion that there WAS no forwarding address to speak of.

"Since then, she's been spending her free time trying to track you down, and she finally spotted you yesterday. She was in the coffee shop across from the library when she saw you two waiting for it to open. It wasn't until she eavesdropped on you that she knew how dire it was and called me.

"And now I'm here. And I'm taking you home with me. Unless there's anything in New York keeping you here…?"

Both boys shook their heads. "We've lost pretty much everything except for each other and my guitar –"

"And that's only because he was stupid enough to sneak over and steal it back from the people who stole it from us!" Kurt chastised him.

"They weren't paying any attention to us, Kurt. I was fine."

"You scared me to DEATH Blaine Anderson! I'll have you know that –"

"Aaaaannnnd that's quite enough, boys. You can bicker it out on the way home."

For the first time in weeks, both Kurt and Blaine smiled. "Home sounds really good, Dad."

"Yeah, really good," Blaine agreed.


End file.
